Far From the Tree
by epic win
Summary: Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy redefine the Potter/Malfoy dynamic, running around Hogwarts practically glued at the hip. They are fast friends indeed, but does one of them want something more? Slashy Scorpius/Albus, lemony in Ch2
1. Chapter 1

Title: Far From the Tree

Author: epicwin

Pairing: Scorpius/Albus Severus

Author's Note: So this is probably the longest fic I've ever written- and it's about the epilogue boys! Who woulda thought? I usually don't like either of those things, but here we are. Stick around for chapter 2 and lemony goodness. Enjoy! C&C welcome :)

* * *

><p>Hogwarts was the best thing that had ever happened to Albus Potter.<p>

At home he had been a nervous, sensitive child. Everything worried him—James worried him, the garden gnomes worried him; even his own birthday worried him.

_What if I invite lots of people and nobody shows up? What if I don't invite Hector and he finds out and gets mad? What if I _do_ invite him and he makes fun of me again and I cry? What if someone's allergic to my cake? Oh, my god, what if someone dies at my party?_

The only things that didn't make him worry were his parents and books. His parents loved him, and they understood Albus's many concerns about the world. They never teased him. And books—well, there's not much to worry about in a book, is there? Albus read because he liked being the observer for once, watching _other_ people worry.

But then he went to Hogwarts. And magically (it had to be magic), Albus didn't get so nervous anymore. How could one possibly be worried when there's so much magic to learn?

He was sorted into Ravenclaw, and became the first person in his entire family to not be in Gryffindor. But he didn't mind. There were people like him in Ravenclaw—people who nitpicked and planned and organized their days in half-hour increments. And there was also his best friend, who had a talent for rationalizing away any worried thoughts that managed to pop into Albus's head.

"We have our Defense Against the Dark Arts exam tomorrow morning, Score."

"Yep."

"But it's so early. Like, seven in the morning. What if I don't wake up in time?"

"Then I'll be sure to wake you up before I leave."

"Yeah, I know, but… but what if you oversleep too?"

Scorpius Malfoy lowered the book he was reading and peered at Albus over the top of it. One of his eyebrows was raised.

"Then we'll be late to the exam."

"Don't say that!" Albus squeaked. "We can't be late. And— oh god—what if we sleep through the _entire_ exam?"

Scorpius put the book down completely and grabbed his friend's shoulder.

"Look at me, Albus. You are not going to be fucking late, okay? All four of us in the dorm are going to be up at that ungodly hour to take the stupid exam, and as far as I know, neither of our roommates secretly hate us. They wouldn't let us sleep through it."

"But—"

"_And_, if every single one of us manages to oversleep a full three hours and we miss the exam completely, I'm sure our professor would understand that it was a fluke and would let us reschedule. _Okay?_"

Finally, Albus smiled. "Okay."

Scorpius shook his head in good-natured disbelief, a half-smile on his lips. "Really, Al, what would you do without me?"

* * *

><p>When Albus had gone home for his first holiday and told his family that he was best friends with Scorpius Malfoy, his father had burst out laughing. That took Albus by surprise—he'd always heard from Uncle Ron and the other Weasleys that his and Scorpius' fathers had not exactly gotten on during their school years. In fact, some of the stories that went around made it seem as if they'd been mortal enemies.<p>

So he hadn't really expected his father to laugh. "But I thought you and Scorpius' dad hated each other while you were at school," Albus said, looking up at his father.

Harry stopped laughing and peered at Albus thoughtfully. "Well, we did. He did some pretty terrible things to my friends and I—but we didn't treat him any better. And you have to remember that Draco was raised in a family of Death Eaters, and he was forced into that lifestyle. Voldemort practically held dinner parties at his house, for God's sake. He turned out a lot better than most people would have, considering his circumstances."

Albus's eyes were wide with wonder. "Wow. Scorpius never really talks about any of that. I had no idea his family was so involved with the war."

"Then it's probably better if you keep it that way. If Scorpius doesn't want to talk about his family's past, you should respect that. After all, we know firsthand that just because you come from a Dark family doesn't mean you're evil, too."

"Yeah. Like Uncle Sirius."

Harry nodded. "Yes, exactly like Uncle Sirius. He would have wanted me to give Scorpius a chance—so I don't mind if you're friends with him, Al. You can even have him over, if you'd like."

Albus broke out into a huge grin. The sight of it on a face that was usually drawn with worry filled Harry's heart with warmth.

"Thanks, Dad."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Score, do you ever wonder why we're friends?"<p>

Albus and Scorpius were lying on Scorpius's bed, reading Muggle comic books that Aunt Hermione had brought back from visiting her parents.

"No," Scorpius replied, not even looking up from his comic. "We're both in Ravenclaw, we both want to be wandmakers, and we both like Batman comics way better than Superman. It'd be stupid to not be friends."

Albus just stared. Sometimes, he wasn't sure if he loved or hated his friend's dry, logical approach to things. He really was a strange kid—for all of his poise and wit, he would sometimes erupt into fits of ungraceful laughter at the oddest little things. Once, when Rose Weasley had told a lame joke about some guy on a bike ("Why did John fall off his bike? … Because somebody threw a fridge at him!") Scorpius laughed for days. It was so strange to see his usually blasé face split open with a smile. Albus loved it.

Presently, there was no such smile on Scorpius's face. He eyes were flitting from panel to panel, and he was biting slightly on his lip—a bad habit he had when he was concentrating.

"Well, yeah, but you know—didn't our dads use to like, hate each other?"

"They did," said Scorpius, turning to the next page. "My father told me that your dad was a rule breaker, arrogant, and always got him in trouble."

"_What_?" sputtered Albus.

"He also said that he regrets not being friends with him."

Albus's face softened. "Oh." He stuck his nose back in his comic, but he didn't focus on the words at all.

"Well, good," he said, his words muffled in the pages. "Because I don't hate you."

Scorpius snorted. "Yet another reason why we're friends."

* * *

><p>As the years went on, Albus and Scorpius became inseparable. The Hogwarts staff who had been around in their fathers' days thought it the most uncanny thing—two children who looked almost identical to Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, traipsing around the school practically arm-in-arm; the best of friends. For the first year, Hagrid's and Mcgonagall's heads whipped around whenever they heard the names "Potter" and "Malfoy" in the same sentence, ready to break up a fight. It took awhile before they realized that they weren't going to find one without the other, and never a hostile word between them.<p>

Some people even thought they were _too _close. They were almost like the Weasley twins had been— glued together, from sunup to sundown, finishing each other's sentences and communicating without words.

When people asked Scorpius why he was never alone, he seemed baffled. "Why would I want to be alone when I could be with Albus?" He didn't seem to grasp the concept of needing time to oneself. His time alone always included his dark-haired friend.

Albus wasn't quite so calm and rational about it. Why did he want to be around Scorpius all the time? When he was asked that, he always got flustered. He didn't like it when people questioned him. It made him feel as if he were doing something wrong. Wanting to be around Scorpius wasn't wrong, was it?

"Score."

"Al."

"James teased me today. About always being around you."

"So?"

"Well—why do people think it's so weird?"

Albus was perched on the edge of a deep blue armchair in the Ravenclaw common room. Instead of sitting, he was crouching, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms around them. His big green eyes stared soulfully across the rug at Scorpius, who gave a strange, barking laugh.

"You look like an owl." His face was crinkled up, holding back the rest of his laughter.

"Scorpius!" Albus whined. "I'm serious. Why do people always tease us so much?"

"Okay, okay. Sorry. I don't know why they tease us. People usually tease others when they're jealous, or feel their social structure is being threatened. Maybe we're very threatening."

Albus couldn't help but grin at that.

"But you shouldn't let them get to you, Al. I mean, it's not like you're in love with me or anything—"

Albus's heart skipped a beat.

"—we're just good friends. James always fights with all of his friends—he's probably just jealous of you."

"Right," Albus whispered. He could barely get the word out for all the pressure that was building up inside his chest. It felt as if a horde of Hagrid's radioactive flutterbies had spawned in his belly, and were trying to fight their way up out of his mouth.

_Love. "It's not like you're in love with me or something." Ohmigod, I've never thought of that before. What if I'm in love with him? How do I know? Holy shit. If I'm in love with him, that means I'm—that'd mean I were _gay_. Are you even allowed to be gay if you're a wizard? _

"Albus? Al?"

Scorpius was waving his hand in front of Albus's face, which seemed to have frozen.

"Al, you're getting locked on."

Albus shook his head forcefully. The color had drained from his face.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he said, and ran off to the loos.

* * *

><p>Scorpius knew, of course, what had made his friend lock up. He was good at reading people, and even better at reading his best friend. But Albus was terrible at knowing his own self, since his mind was so filled with irrational fears and hypothetical situations that nearly crowded out his real feelings. But that was why he had Scorpius—Scorpius knew him inside and out, so Albus didn't have to.<p>

And Scorpius had known it for a while. He'd had hints in the beginning—Albus was so _sensitive_, and caring, and had spent his whole childhood playing dolls and dress-up with his sister while James was out terrorizing the town on his broomstick. He never talked about anything lewd, even though they had gotten into their fourth year already.

So Scorpius suspected. But the real giveaway was when, last summer, Scorpius mentioned that his father wanted him to go visit a family friend in Bulgaria to meet their daughter—essentially, to explore a potential marriage. He and Albus had been writing regularly, but suddenly Al's letters had stopped coming. When Scorpius came to visit him the week before school, Albus was a mess. The entire house was immaculately clean (Albus had OCD, and often dealt with stress by organizing), and his parents remarked to Scorpius that he had been unusually fretful this summer.

Albus had greeted him nervously, stumbling over his words more than usual. He hadn't been hostile—after all, Albus didn't even know that he was angry—but he was off-kilter and more obsessive than Scorpius had ever seen him. That first night, when they were settled down in the bunk beds in Albus's room, Scorpius had gently called down to Albus below him.

"Al."

"Yeah?" The voice was small and muffled.

"I'm not going to marry that girl. I only went to please my father. I don't want to marry anyone, not for a long time."

"Oh."

He didn't say anything more, but the next day, Albus was back to normal. That was when Scorpius had first realized that his friend's feelings for him went beyond their strangely close friendship—Albus just didn't know yet.

So Scorpius had been waiting for a chance to slip the idea into Albus's head. He felt a little bad, though, because he knew it would give Albus a lot of suffering while he figured it out. But although Scorpius was very close to being perfect (hey, he might not be in Slytherin, but he was still a Malfoy), he was only human. He didn't want to be the only side in a one-sided relationship anymore.

So he planted the idea in Albus's head, and waited to see what would come of it.

* * *

><p>Albus raised his head from the cold porcelain of the toilet, reaching feebly up to flush away the contents of his stomach. His head was spinning.<p>

_It's not like you're in love with me or something._

He had never even considered that before. Scorpius was his friend, and they got along well, and so they spent a lot of time together. And so Albus thought about him often.

Actually, Albus had never really thought about how much time he actually spent thinking of the blonde boy. Now that he did, he realized it was quite a lot. But—wasn't that normal? If you spend every second with someone, won't you wind up thinking about them all the time too?

_But is that normal? How do I know if that's normal? What if it's not? What if _I'm_ not? What if I really am gay, and I love my best friend, and everyone finds out? Will I get expelled? Will Mom and Dad still love me? What if they kick me out?_

And, suddenly, a thought even worse than those:

_What if I do love him, but he doesn't love me back?_

Over the next few days, the castle became inexplicably tidier than anyone had ever seen it.

* * *

><p>"Albus Potter, what are you doing in my private stores?"<p>

Albus froze, his hand still clutching a small potted plant. He turned slowly to face his accuser.

"I—I'm sorry, Professor Longbottom, I, er—I just noticed that there was a bit of dirt on these shelves…"

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Albus… this is a greenhouse. There's dirt everywhere."

"I know," Albus groaned. "But you don't understand. I—I can't stand it when things are messy. It'd be fine if the whole shelf were covered in dirt, but only half of it was, and I didn't want to put more dirt on so I had to clean it off. And then I had to clean the rest of the shelves so that—so that they'd all be the same…" he trailed off, looking meek and miserable.

Neville reached out a hand and patted Albus on the shoulder, his face sympathetic. When he spoke, his voice was gentle.

"Your dad told me that you have some, er… trouble when you're worried. So… is everything okay?"

Albus just stood there, lip trembling, looking as if he were about to cry.

"I… I…" He couldn't get any words out, and just looked at Neville helplessly. Neville patted him again, awkwardly (he'd never been good with kids, and didn't have any of his own), and then suddenly snapped his fingers.

"I've got it—here, I think…" he mumbled, fumbling around in the pockets of his robes. With a triumphant "A-ha!" he pulled out a Honeydukes chocolate bar, the wrapper slightly crumpled from being toted around. He handed it to Albus, grinning.

"This always picked your dad right up. Go on, be off with it."

"Thanks, Professor," said Albus, looking a little less dejected. As he was walking away, Neville called after him.

"Oi! Albus—good luck with whatever's bothering you!"

Albus was actually smiling as he walked back to the castle, and, even more surprisingly—

—he walked straight past a crooked painting without even stopping to cringe.

* * *

><p>Scorpius noticed that night that Albus had finally snapped out of his week-long malaise. He was glad of it, too—although he hadn't felt bad when he first brought up the whole love thing, he hadn't expected Albus to get this obsessed about it. He'd felt terrible, watching his friend stumbling through the castle and snapping at anyone who moved the common room chairs out of their 90-degree angle positions.<p>

"So you're looking a lot better, mate." Scorpius commented off-handedly, as he pulled back the curtains on his four-poster to get into bed. The other two Ravenclaw boys were still downstairs studying. He and Albus were, as usual, the first to turn in. ("Early to bed, early to rise, early to jinx out some Muggle's eyes!" his mother always sing-songed at him.)

"Yeah," Albus said, as he did the same. "Actually, Score, I—I have something to talk to you about."

"Oh, jeez, is it about the Transfiguration thing again? I already told you, no matter how badly you fudge your cat-to-dog transformation, McGonagall will be able to put it right again. It won't get stuck as some horrible cat-dog creature, I promise."

Albus bit his lip, frowning. "No, this is serious."

"Oh, and the transfiguration thing wasn't?" Score mumbled under his breath. "I could've sworn you were about to start crying… Okay," he raised his voice, "What's up?"

The dark-haired boy was sitting cross-legged on his bed, both hands worrying the frayed edge of his blanket. His big, green eyes stared at Scorpius.

_I swear, he really is part owl. It's like he's staring into my soul, _Scorpius thought.

"I… so, er, do you remember last week, when I was really off about James teasing me? And you said he's probably just jealous?" Albus looked at Scorpius expectantly.

"Yes, I remember."

"Well… and then, do you remember what you said after? That—that it's not like… it's not like I'm in love with you or anything?" His voice was quavering.

"Yes."

"I, er… I've been thinking about that a lot."

Now it was Scorpius's turn to look expectant. But Albus didn't go on. He just sat, staring and pulling on that blanket. The silence drew on, and as Albus didn't show any intention of elaborating any further, Scorpius had to poke it out of him.

"You think about everything a lot, Al," he said flatly.

Albus looked crushed. For a moment, Scorpius felt bad—but this was how you had to handle Albus when he was like this. You couldn't just go straight for the point or he'd clam up like a freakin'… clam-uppy thing. _Wow, that was a brilliant simile._

"Right." Albus took a deep breath, drawing Scorpius back to the situation at hand. "But like… like, I've been thinking about it, and what if... what if I… am? What if I am in love with you? How do I know?"

This was so like him. Most people would find it strange to try and figure out if they like someone by actually asking that person—but it was so Albus. He reasoned everything out with Scorpius; why should this be any different?

It was an awkward situation, certain—especially since Scorpius had put himself in it. But as awkward as it was, Scorpius had been waiting for this conversation. Had been _aching_ for it, for the moment when the true feelings between them could be realized.

But he had to be delicate about it. Albus was fragile. He couldn't reveal himself just yet.

"Have you never liked someone before?" Scorpius asked, his face masking any deeper emotion than curiosity.

Albus shook his head. "No, I mean, I don't think so. I like my family, and I like some of my teachers… I like you, of course, and I like some of the other students. But that's not _like_ like, I know that. The only… I mean, I know I love my family. And I know I like you more than anyone else, ever. But I've never even had a friend before I came to Hogwarts, you know? So how do I know if I love you, or if this is just what friendship feels like?"

_Close. But not yet._

"Well, if you're trying to identify something but don't have anything to compare it to, you turn to second-hand observations. Would you like my personal accounts?"

Albus nodded.

"Well," Scorpius began slowly, "before I came here, I had a friend that I played with at Malfoy Manor. She was the daughter of another family friend. They come to visit quite often, and we would play the whole time. It was a lot of fun. But when I came to Hogwarts, she went off to Beauxbeautons. I missed her, of course, but life goes on.

I've been in love, too. And it's different. It's like friendship, but _more_. You know it's love, because—because you're _filled_ with them. When you're not with them, your heart aches. You worry about them. There's never a time when you don't want to see them—even when you're fighting, or sad, or irritated by each other—because you know that they're the only one who can make it better. You can't bear the idea of being without them. It hurts.

And there's… well, there's the physical part, too. When you love someone, you want to _be_ with them. You want to be as close as you can. Thinking about them makes you, you know, excited and stuff."

Albus cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Scorpius gave an exasperated sigh. "Do I have to say it? Like, you think about them when you're having a wank, and stuff."

"Oh my god, Scorpius!" Albus shrieked. "Don't talk about that! I've never done that!" His cheeks were furiously red.

Scorpius raised an eyebrow at that. _Is he really so innocent that he's never done that before? _His pants twitched.

"You _asked_ me what I meant!" he huffed; faking vexation to cover up anything else he was feeling. "Anyway, there. That's the difference between liking someone as a friend, and liking them as something more. Okay? Does that help?"

For a moment, it seemed as if Albus had forgotten what they were talking about, so distracted he was by the mention of pervy things. But then his face got serious again.

"When I'm not around you, like during the summer and winter breaks and even if you're late to class—it's like my heart just sinks, and there's like, this emptiness until I see you again. And that one time, when I thought you were going to marry that girl, I just about died. I thought it was just 'cause without you I'm bored, but—but maybe it's something else."

The two boys locked eyes. They both tried not to breathe, as each breath was like thunder in the silence between them.

Albus looked away first. "But I'm not sure about the… the physical stuff. You know I don't really think about that…"

Scorpius, who was on the edge of his own bed by this time, stood up. He slowly made the two or so steps it took to close the distance between them, and stood now at the edge of Albus's bed. Albus was still sitting cross-legged, and looked up at his friend. He thought he should be worried about what was going to happen—but the nervous what-if's, usually clamoring frantically over each other in his mind, were gone. He was content to wait and see.

* * *

><p>Scorpius looked down at Albus on the bed. He had been waiting for this for so long—was there ever a time when he hadn't wanted to reach out and touch this boy? Wanted to put his hands in that dark hair, run his fingers down those slender arms, feel those lovely, soft lips on his.<p>

Ever since he was little, his father had told him stories about Harry Potter. Great, brave stories. "So that you won't feel like you have to hate him if you meet him," his father said. "Like I did." So Scorpius grew up like the rest of the little wizarding boys and girls—idolizing the Chosen One, the hero of the war.

And then on the first day of school, the Sorting Hat had put him in Ravenclaw. Scorpius felt lost—his entire family had been in Slytherin, and he secretly worried that maybe the Sorting Hat had made a mistake.

But then the name, "Potter, Albus Severus," was called, and Scorpius watched the child of his hero walk up to the stool. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was like the boy from his father's stories had walked right out of his imagination and into the hall—his hair was black and untidy, and his eyes were a brilliant green.

He was so lost in the amazing image of Albus that he almost didn't hear the Sorting Hat shout out, "Ravenclaw!" But the little boy bounded over to the table, _his_ table, and fell down into the seat next to him.

Those green eyes stared up at him, as deep and sharp and shining as jewels, and a smile broke out across his little face. "Hi," he said, and just like that—Scorpius was gone, yet another victim of those eyes.

As they got to know each other, Scorpius realized that this boy was not like the hero from his father's stories. Albus was timid, spent most of his time buried in a book, and fell off his broomstick the first day of flying lessons and never got back on. But the spirit was the same. Draco had told Scorpius that Harry Potter had a way with people—a way of making everyone's smiles come easy. That was just like Albus. And in time, Scorpius came to love all of his friend's idiosyncrasies. Harry Potter didn't matter to him anymore. He had something much, much better—something real.

He didn't know it was love then, but he knows now. And he answers his own question—no. There was never a time since he set foot in this castle when he hasn't wanted to be with this boy.

His father would be furious. Not because of the fact that it was Harry Potter's son—but just the fact that it was a _he_. Who would carry on the family line? Who would pass down the noble name of Malfoy?

But as he cupped Albus's chin in his hand, and bent his head down to meet his friend's trembling lips, none of that mattered. Would never matter, really. He would sooner set fire to the entire Malfoy mansion than push this boy away from him. The soft wetness of his lips, the heat from the squirming body beneath him—it was better than any promise of fame or fortune.

After an eternity had passed (an entire four-second eternity), Scorpius drew back. He searched Albus's face for a reaction—hopefully not disgust or anger, but he could deal with those if he had to. He had gambled.

Albus opened his eyes, slowly. Once again, they stared at each other—Scorpius was shaking with apprehension, and Albus was, for once, still as a deer in headlights. If the silence had been heavy before, it was suffocating now, rolling over them like the current beneath waves.

"Okay," breathed Albus. "I think I love you."

It was like a happy ending from a movie. Scorpius broke out into a grin, put his arms around the dark-haired boy, and they fell back on the bed. They laughed and kissed and didn't even care when the other boys burst in—Scorpius pulled the hangings shut and he and Albus stayed in their world of eyes like emeralds and storms, new hands, new happiness—new love.

"Score."

"Yeah?"

"Who were you in love with?"

"You, obviously."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey."

Scorpius smiled as he felt small arms encircle his waist from behind. An untidy black head nuzzled itself in the crook of Scorpius's neck, and he knew that Albus was standing on his tip-toes. Short little munchkin.

"You're calling me a munchkin in your head, Score, I can see it on your face!" Albus snatched his hands back to his sides and gave Scorpius an angry pout.

"God, Al, don't make that face at me. You look like a fucking puppy dog. Malfoys hate things that look like puppies."

"Ha. Right. Give it up, tough guy. You know you love it when I'm cute."

"Urgh. You're right," Scorpius said, catching Albus's hands in his and leaning down to kiss him. "I love it when you're cute."

They stared at each other for a moment, and then both burst out laughing. Albus pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. "Wow. We can be really disgusting sometimes," he said.

"Yeah. I don't know how people stand us."

Scorpius grinned, and set them both off again. The rest of the Ravenclaws in the common room just shook their heads, rolled their eyes, and kept on with their books. They were used to this by now—at least the boys goofing off in their own little world was better than what Rose Weasley had described as their "really fucking long puppy-love phase," where they had stared dreamily into each other's eyes for long intervals and been irritatingly happy all the time. Thankfully, that was only for the first few months after they started dating. Now, they were in their sixth year, and they had evolved to simply having lots of inside jokes and laughing about things only they found funny. It was just like when they were only friends, except now sometimes they kissed.

(Only the two other sixth-year Ravenclaw boys were subjected to anything more—Scorpius couldn't count the number of times he'd heard Ralph shout, "_God_, you guys, close the fucking curtains!")

In the beginning, Scorpius was amazed at how naïve Albus really was. Shortly after they had first kissed, Albus had come up to Scorpius with a worried look on his face and asked, "It's not, like, illegal to be gay in the wizarding world, is it?"

Scorpius had just stared at him, so flabbergasted that he forgot to close his mouth. A bit of milk from his cereal dribbled down his chin.

"You know, I love you and all," he said, wiping the milk away with his hand, "but sometimes I wonder how you managed to get sorted into Ravenclaw."

Albus had been legitimately upset by this and Scorpius had to give him two bars of Honeydukes chocolate before he forgave him again.

* * *

><p>In the beginning, they took it slow. Though Scorpius's childhood had been well-stocked with naughty magazines and literature easily attained from bribing (read: threatening) the servants and house-elves, Albus had evidently managed to evade any mention of sex (quite a feat, Scorpius thought, when surely James's room and speech must have been littered with them).<p>

So Scorpius never pushed anything on Albus. He _was_ a Ravenclaw, after all—for all he was a teenage boy with a beautiful lover at his fingertips, his mind had a firm reign over his body. It wasn't easy, though.

After they had been together for a couple of months, and they were lying in Albus's bed, necking (the other boys were watching the Quidditch match, which neither Scorpius nor Albus cared for)—Scorpius broke from their usual routine and slid his hand into the waistband of Albus's trousers.

Immediately, Albus broke their kiss and stared wide-eyed at the blonde boy. But he made no move to push away Scorpius's hand.

"Is it okay?" Scorpius whispered, pressing his lips back to Albus's.

Silence. Scorpius started to draw his hand out, away from the hot hot heat of the other boy.

"No," breathed Albus, catching Scorpius's wrist and guiding it back. "It's okay. I want you to."

If Scorpius wasn't turned on before, he was now. There is nothing quite like hearing the boy you've lusted after for so long say he _wants_ you touching him. Scorpius smiled against the other boy's lips, and his fingers closed around the smooth skin of the smaller boy's cock.

Albus started giggling. Scorpius pulled back to look at him.

"Giggling? Really? That's not the reaction I was hoping for."

"It tickles." Albus smiled up at him apologetically.

"Tickles? Is that all?" Scorpius moved his hand up and down, slowly, and Albus moaned.

That night was Albus's first orgasm, ever. Scorpius felt the old Malfoy pride creeping up in him at that— Malfoys liked to be first.

* * *

><p>"So—erm… if you don't have plans for winter break, maybe you could—maybe you could come home with me for the holiday?"<p>

Albus wrung his hands nervously, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "But if you don't want to, that's okay— I know you're busy and I don't know why I thought you'd wanna come home with me anyway, you probably don't like my house since it's so tiny compared to yours and James teases us all the time and—"

"Al. Chill." Scorpius put down the book he had been reading (Pride and Prejudice—he had a certain love for embarrassing muggle novels), and pulled Albus down next to him on the couch. He broke off a piece of the chocolate bar he had been eating and gave it to the other boy—Albus downed chocolate like a pregnant woman when he was worried about something.

"I'd love to go to your place for Christmas," Scorpius said. Albus's face broke into a huge grin—but Scorpius's face was unsmiling.

"But—"

Albus's face fell.

"—we're having my grandparents over for Christmas. I haven't seen them in years, and I don't think I could get away with not coming home."

Scorpius grimaced as Albus's lip began to wibble. He knew Albus had probably spent days working up the courage to ask him to come and visit. He was probably crushed—so Scorpius said hurriedly, "But you can probably come and stay with me, if you'd like."

* * *

><p>All of Albus's mostly-buried fears of Scorpius's family came rushing at once up to the surface of his mind. Scorpius was a good person—Albus knew that. And Albus's father had reassured him time after time that the Malfoys had changed. They weren't the same family as the Malfoys of Uncle Ron's and Uncle George's horrible stories.<p>

But Albus couldn't shake the terror he felt at actually going to Malfoy Manor. Where Voldemort had stood, and killed—and hadn't Scorpius said his grandparents were visiting? That meant _Lucius Malfoy_, who Albus knew had been in league with Voldemort and participated in at least a few murders.

_I don't think I can handle this_. _James always teases me about being "fragile"—but I am. I'm not brave and I don't think I can do this._

"You're thinking about my family's past, aren't you?" Scorpius's voice cut into Albus's internal monologue.

"H-how did you know?"

"Oh, please. You're sitting there shaking like a leaf and you're about to cry. You're scared to meet my family, aren't you?"

Albus nodded, still shaking. Scorpius reached out to grasp Albus's hand, and, brushing his untidy hair back, planted a quick kiss on his forehead.

"Look. My family has done some terrible things. I can't deny it. But my father is a good man, and my mother—well, she says horrible things, but she doesn't mean it. And my grandfather… I'm appalled at the things he's done. But my father has told me that he only did those things because he's a weak man, and we should pity him. He said that near the end of the war, my grandfather didn't want to be in league with Voldemort anymore, but he was too scared to run. My grandmother's only ever cared about keeping her family safe."

He exhaled, and stretched his arms out above his head, like the words he just spoke had exhausted him greatly. Albus felt a rush of sympathy for him.

_I can't believe I questioned his family like that. I'm a terrible boyfriend._

"I understand if you don't want to come," Scorpius said. "But I'd love to have you. And I promise my grandparents won't, like, hex you or anything. Probably."

"Okay. Yeah. Thanks, Score."

"Oh, and Albus? You're going to _love_ my bed."

With that, Scorpius's face disappeared behind his novel, leaving Albus to sit there blushing furiously.

* * *

><p>"Wow."<p>

Albus stood in front of the huge iron gates of Malfoy Manor, his mouth hanging open. Even just the _gates_ were enormous—they looked tall enough for a giant to walk through, without even bowing his head. Beyond the fence was a long, stone road, dotted with amazing topiaries (he saw quite a few lions amongst them, and noted the irony). And though the actual mansion was at least a mile off, it still looked massive.

Scorpius laughed at his friend's amazement, and pulled Albus through the gates.

"Pretty big, huh?"

"Yeah," agreed Albus. "And that's totally what she said."

After walking only a few feet onto the grounds, the two boys vanished in mid-step. Their feet came down a second later not on the hard stone path, but on a deeply polished wooden floor in an ornately decorated room. Albus's head craned this way and that, trying to take in all of the details.

The room was rather brighter than Albus had expected. He was thinking it would resemble the Potions classroom in the dungeons or something, but it was actually flooded with light from giant floor-to-ceiling windows, and hung with emerald green curtains and tapestries.

"Dude, your eyes match my house," Scorpius snorted. Albus punched him playfully on the arm, whispering, "Shut up!"

"You don't have to whisper, Al. This isn't, like, a museum or anything."

"I know," said Albus, barely louder than before. "It just feels like I should be whispering! Like Professor McGonagall is gonna float out of the walls and yell at me for talking during class…

By the way, Score, do your parents, uh—do they know about us?" Albus had been worrying about this for a while. He had gotten used to reaching out for Scorpius's hand whenever he felt like it, and he wasn't sure if he could make himself drop the habit.

_What if they don't know, and I slip up and they find out? What if they jinx me? What if it gets Score in trouble? What if they're so angry, they turn back to their Voldemort days and just use the killing curse on me?_

"They know. Dad wasn't upset at all, surprisingly enough. But we should still probably keep our hands to ourselves." Scorpius turned to Albus, and swept his arm around the room.

"So—welcome to Malfoy Manor. This is the drawing room. May I take your coat?"

"Uh, sure."

Albus shrugged off his wool coat, and was about to hand it to Scorpius when a tiny little creature appeared at his feet, and gently tugged the coat out of his hands. It was a house-elf, wrinkled and dressed in a smart green tunic.

"Thanks you for your coats, sirs. Young master, Elva may has yours, too, sirs?"

Scorpius tossed his to the elf, too. She bowed and made to leave, but Scorpius held up a hand. She stopped in her tracks.

"Wait a moment, Elva," he said, and turned to Albus. "Are you ready to see everyone? My grandparents should be here already."

Albus gulped, his throat suddenly dry. "O-okay… better sooner than later, right?" His voice cracked on the last word, and Scorpius smiled at him reassuringly.

"You'll be fine," he said, giving Albus's hand a squeeze. "Elva, could you let my father know we're here?"

"Yessirs, Elva will go gets them, sirs!" And she disappeared with a crack.

Albus looked towards Scorpius, getting more nervous by the second. He started frantically smoothing down his messy hair, asking, "Is my hair okay? I heard your family has a thing about, like, perfect hair."

"Your hair is fine. Though now that I think about it, we Malfoys do all have rather amazing hair, don't we?"

"We do," drawled a cold voice, "though that's not really what I want our family to be remembered by."

It was Scorpius's father, who had appeared in doorway of the drawing room, along with three other people. One of them, the lady with the poofy black hair, was Scorpius's mother. Albus had seen her once or twice at King's Cross, but had never spoken to her. She wearing a sleek grey dress and a fur wrap. The woman next to her must be Narcissa Malfoy—she was old and wrinkled, but stood very tall and straight. Her hair reminded Albus of a skunk.

And that, the hunched old man leaning on a black cane with a silver snake's head, must be Lucius Malfoy. The Death Eater. Albus felt himself shrink backwards.

"Albus, this is my family. You've already met my father—"

Draco strode over to the boys, and shook Albus's hand. Albus was rather fond of Scorpius's dad. When they were younger, Draco always accompanied Scorpius to Albus's house to drop him off. He had even stayed for dinner once or twice. He was like Albus's own father—a bit too tired-looking for his age; worn out by the war. But still kind, and with an odd sense of humor, just like Scorpius. Albus had a hard time believing Uncle Ron's stories about Draco being so mean at school.

"Good to see you again, Albus."

"Nice to see you too, sir. T-thank you for having me in your hou—your, uh, manor?"

_Oh great. Not even two minutes in and I'm already making a fool of myself._

Draco chuckled. "You can call it a house. It's nothing special."

"—and my mother," Scorpius went on, "whom I don't believe I've formally introduced before. Mother, this is Albus."

"Yes, yes," she said, "your boyfriend."

Immediately, the room fell silent. Astoria didn't seem to notice; she walked over to Albus and gave him two little air kisses, while he stood there, immobilized. She pulled back to look at him.

"It's nice to meet you, dear. Rather lovely, aren't you? No wonder my Scorpius is smitten."

When nobody replied, she looked around the room, and saw everyone staring at her. "Oh, come on now," she exclaimed. "This isn't the Dark Ages. We can't just pretend like they're not together—we're going to treat them the same as any other couple. Which means," she said, pointing her finger at her son, "sleeping in separate bedrooms."

Scorpius's eyebrows shot up, and Albus felt like crawling into a hole. _If Lucius Malfoy doesn't kill me, I'm just going to die of embarrassment anyway. Dear god._

"Right," said Scorpius, clearing his throat, "where was I? Albus, these are my grandparents. Grandpapa, Grandmama, this is Albus Potter."

Narcissa gave a small curtsy, and Albus bowed back clumsily. Lucius didn't say anything. _He looks so haggard and unhappy._ Albus decided at that moment that what Scorpius had said was right—this was a man to be pitied, not feared.

"Well then," said Astoria, "why don't we head down to dinner? Elva made your favorite dessert, Scorpius darling, spotted dick."

At Scorpius's side, Albus snorted. "Your favorite dessert is _spotted dick_?" he whispered.

"Oh, shut up."

Astoria, a few steps ahead of them, heard and turned around.

"Oh, that _is_ funny now, isn't it? Maybe you should find a new favorite dessert, dear."

Albus could've sworn he heard Draco Malfoy snort.

* * *

><p>Dinner, though a little awkward, went smoothly. The table was set with wine rather than water, and Albus left the table feeling slightly fuzzy-headed. His parents didn't drink wine.<p>

Scorpius led him down a maze of ornately decorated hallways and staircases, until they finally arrived at a secluded space in the west wing.

"These are my chambers," Scorpius said, pushing open one of the polished wooden double-doors.

"Oh my god, you have _chambers_? You really are like royalty or something."

"My father would love to hear you say that. But this castle has just been in our family for ages. You know, the whole pure bloodline thing… I don't know, we used to be pretty big."

"You're still _pretty big_, if you know what I mean," slurred Albus, his face merry.

"Holy tits, did you just make a dirty joke? You really are a lightweight. That wine's got you gone."

"Holy tits? Who the hell says holy tits?"

"Shut up, you munchkin. Why don't you go have a bath? Maybe that'll sober you up. I do have quite a nice bathtub."

"Wanna come with me?" Albus tried to wink, but only managed to do a silly half-blink. _I should definitely hold off on the wine next time._

Scorpius took a firm hold of Albus's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Albus, we have a whole two weeks together. Let's take it slow, okay? You go take a bath. Relax. I'll be here when you get out."

"Booo," whined Albus. Suddenly, the alcohol-induced haze vanished, and he seemed to come back into focus. He put his arms around Scorpius's neck, and stood on his tiptoes to kiss him. Pulling back, he said, "Score… I think, er… I-I think tonight, I wanna… you know. I think I'm ready."

"Really?" Scorpius tried to keep his face composed, but his body betrayed his excitement. Albus pressed himself harder against him, and could feel his erection beneath the fabric of his pants.

"Really." Albus kissed him again. "See you later."

And this time Scorpius was the one left burning, in more ways than one.

* * *

><p>"I love you."<p>

The room was dark. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, and the manor was held in that strange, heavy silence of the in-between time, when even the sun is sleeping. Moonlight leaked in through the big bay window.

Albus and Scorpius stood in the middle of the room, where the moonlight didn't reach. They stood barely apart from one another, but the inch or so between them in the darkness felt like miles. Albus reached out, stretched himself across the impenetrable distance, and his hands tangled themselves in Scorpius's hair. And that was it—the distance was closed, the boys pressed themselves together, _his_ hands running over _his_ hips and _his_ mouth on _his_ neck against _his_ shoulders. A tangle of limbs, boy on boy on boy, without ending or beginning.

Scorpius's fingers worked deftly on Albus's shirt buttons, while Albus's fumbled clumsily on his. Albus's shirt came off first, slid off his shoulders by warm hands, and Scorpius pulled his own off without waiting for Albus to finish the buttons. They didn't speak—just touched, kissed, caressed, breathed.

And then Albus, for once, pushed things along and fell kneeling to the ground, tugging Scorpius's pants with him. He took his time, first trailing his fingers lightly around the other boy's hips and thighs and stomach, before taking of hold of his cock. Scorpius drew in a sharp breath, and moaned as Albus took the whole of him into his mouth.

Albus had gotten particularly good at this part since they had started messing around. Scorpius secretly thought it was because Albus felt bad for not going all the way, and thought he needed to make it up to him somehow. Whatever the reason, he had become a veritable expert in the application of the mouth to various parts of the body, and Scorpius wasn't complaining.

Scorpius put a hand on Albus's head, telling him to stop. He reached down to help the other boy up, and tugged at the waistband of Albus's pants. Albus quickly stepped out of them.

He really was a lovely thing. He stood there, in the darkness, and Scorpius ran his eyes over everywhere his hands had been. He was shorter and smaller than Scorpius, and so delicate looking. His skin was darker than Scorpius's own, and his dark, unruly hair fell so perfectly in his eyes, Scorpius had to reach out and brush it back.

Scorpius didn't know that Albus was thinking the same things about him—that his slender, lithe body and his pale hair made him look part Veela. And his eyes—Scorpius had never liked them much, but Albus loved the stormy, silvery depths of them.

Albus's own eyes were shining in the darkness. Bright, emerald green. Scorpius gathered Albus close to him, and picked him up. The size difference between them wasn't so great that Scorpius could throw him around like a feather, but it wasn't hard to lift him.

Albus gave a little cry of surprise, trying to stay quiet in the still room. "What are you doing?"

In reply, Scorpius merely carried him over to the bed and laid him carefully down. His naked skin shone against the dark black sheets. Scorpius straddled him, and kissed him gently on the mouth.

"Tonight is special. If you're going to give yourself to me, I get to treat you like a fucking princess first. Or—prince. Or whatever."

Albus laughed softly. "'Kay."

And Scorpius did. He did everything he knew the other boy liked—and later, when Albus lay, panting and close and hot, Scorpius drew back. Albus moaned at the lack of him. Scorpius captured his lips in a kiss to quiet him.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, yes, _please_," panted Albus. "Please." He was making those little whimpers of wanting that drove Scorpius crazy. It was taking every ounce of self-control Scorpius had not to take him right then.

Instead, he cupped Albus's chin in his hand, pressing his lips against the other boy's.

"Please, Score." Albus's voice was pleading.

"It… it's probably going to hurt, you know. I don't want to hurt you."

Albus stopped straining against Scorpius's body and looked up at him, eyes serious. "Score, it's okay. I'm ready for this, I really am. I know it'll hurt. B-but… but I want that, with you."

"… Okay. But if it's too much, I'll stop. We don't have to do this."

"I know." Albus kissed him. "I love you." Again. "And I want this."

Scorpius sat up on his knees, looking at the dark boy before him. He didn't know it was possible to care this much for someone. He couldn't bear to hurt him—not just now, but ever.

But sometimes love is pain. And there are certain things you don't deny a boy who is lying hot and ready for you on a bed—so Scorpius grabbed his wand from the bedside table and murmured a few incantations. A pearlescent, slick gel shot from the tip of his wand and pooled in his palm.

He swept some up with his fingers, and reached between Albus's legs. The other boy yelped.

"Jesus, that's fucking cold!" he hissed. The heat of earlier was starting to dissipate.

"Sorry." Scorpius ran his fingertip around the outside of the other boy's entrance, and slowly, carefully, slid the whole finger in. Albus started whimpering with pleasure again—they had done this much a few times before, and if the angle was right, Scorpius could hit a spot that sent Albus wild. He slipped in another finger; Albus started bucking his hips against Scorpius's hand.

"Please," Albus begged, "Pleaseplease_please_, Scorpius…."

Scorpius used whatever was left in his other hand to cover his own prick, wiped the residue on the sheets, and kneeled over Albus. The boy was shaking beneath him.

Scorpius reached a hand out for Albus's, and their fingers intertwined. Scorpius positioned himself so that the tip of him pressed up against Albus—and when Albus nodded, Scorpius gently pushed forward.

It was tight—had been tight around just his two fingers, and so this seemed almost impossible. He grabbed the base of his cock to keep it from slipping away, and pressed against Albus with more force. There was resistance, and Scorpius heard faint, pained noises from beneath him, but then something gave and he was in.

Albus cried out in pain, and the hand that was clutching Scorpius's squeezed tightly. Scorpius looked down at Albus and was shocked to see a silvery line of tears running down Albus's cheeks and his face drawn in pain.

"Al, are you okay? Should I pull out?"

Albus shook his head violently, still screwing up his eyes to keep the tears in. "No," he whispered. "Keep going. It feels good."

Scorpius could hardly believe that, but he leaned down to kiss the other boy and started an easy motion with his hips. Albus kept whimpering and sniffling at first, but as Scorpius became more forceful with his thrusts, the pained cries turned seamlessly into ones of pleasure.

You know how some people say that sex isn't all it's cracked up to be? Well, they're liars. Scorpius had never felt anything this amazing, and on so many levels—physical, of course, as a body is way better than your hand, but also emotionally; he'd never felt this close to Albus. Never felt so connected, and he had never heard Albus moan so _loud_.

He knew he was hitting the right spot when Albus accidentally bit down on Scorpius's lip, drawing blood. He didn't even seem to notice—just dug his fingernails into Scorpius's back, his mouth open in a noiseless O against the other boy's. Scorpius heard him panting, "_yes, yes, yes, oh my fucking god, yes,"_ underneath his breath, and the breathy little moans made him buck harder against Albus's body.

Albus came first, with his strange, silent orgasm—he just held his breath and bit his lip and then exhaled with a moan when it was done. The sight of him, panting and spent, sent Scorpius over the edge—he pushed as deep into Albus as he could and came.

He collapsed next to Albus on the bed. It was all they could do to stretch out their arms and grasp each other's hand—and then, exhausted, they fell asleep, all warnings about separate bedrooms forgotten.

* * *

><p>Early the next morning, before even all the house-elves had woken, Astoria Malfoy tiptoed up to her son's room and peeked in the door. What she saw made her giggle, and she pulled out her wand to whisper, "<em>scourgify<em>." She motioned to Elva, who was trailing behind her, and said, "Go and cover them up, dear. And make sure to accidentally wake them before Draco gets up—we'll let him think they followed the rules, shall we?"

And she walked away, leaving the boys to their tangle of limbs and young love, and made sure to remember to tease them about it later.


End file.
